By Jan Wiezorek

Stars are quilts of us,
wrapping our hugs.
We believe a hand
leads us to new days
of nights, new tomorrows.
We’ve been led to this
carriage house hiding
as errant foxes in pigweed.
High up, we reach a second
story under true north.
Constellations invite us,
crouching, stumbling
on evening stairs and dust.
Good comes to those
who ask. We’re not the same
kind of freedom-seekers,
but we believe in choice
and desire, and love
enough to be in love—
sitting here wrapped
around your burlap arms.

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Jan Wiezorek writes from rural Michigan and walks daily among the beech forests of McCoy Creek Trail. He is author of the poetry chapbooks Prayer’s Prairie (Michigan Writers Cooperative Press) and Forests of Woundedness (forthcoming from Seven Kitchens Press). Wiezorek’s work has appeared in The London Magazine, Lucky Jefferson, BlazeVOX, Pine Hills Review, Triggerfish Critical Review, Vita Poetica, and elsewhere. He taught writing at St. Augustine College, Chicago, and he holds a master’s degree in English Composition/Writing from Northeastern Illinois University, Chicago. The Poetry Society of Michigan awarded him, and he is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Jan posts at janwiezorek.substack.com.